


When Death Comes Calling

by lilysmiles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Dark Jon Snow, Dragons, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilysmiles/pseuds/lilysmiles
Summary: The death of Lyanna Stark was suspicious however you chose to look at it. After all, a healthy woman from a family known for birthing multiple healthy children per a generation would hardly be prone to die on a birthing bed. Unless ‘helped’ of course.So what would happen to Jon Snow if the awkward conversation ‘brother, I eloped, my baby is a Prince’ had an unintended witness?
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In one of the highest rooms of a beautiful castle standing on a cliff above the sea, a gorgeous maiden was looking into a mirror. Hers was a great beauty. One that sings and entices men. One that makes them wonder. One that would make them present their hearts to her in their own hands just in the hope of an answer. One that would lead them to sin. And even death.

But few thought of such morbid things when they looked upon her. Because the maiden with her gold-spun locks and eyes that could be likened to the most precious jade, her firm breasts that almost begged for a lover’s touch, her long legs that made one think of things much inappropriate for a high-born lady’s company, didn’t present the impression of danger. No, it was desire, sin at its finest. So few knew that the core of such an enticing and beautiful fruit held a rot. Namely, her scream was alike one of a furious banshee. And she was hardly trying.

“ _FATHER_! But you said I was to marry a _Prince_!!!” The maiden furiously flung her hair back. Glaring at her father who presented the image of a firm man, if one far from his prime.

The man in question looked simultaneously annoyed and exasperated. As if this very conversation has already been held many, _many_ times. “And you shall.”

The teenager, for she couldn’t be much older than sixteen, wrung her hands. “But Lord Baratheon isn’t a Prince! He is a Lord! A betrothed Lord! How am I to marry him? And more so, _why_ would I marry him?! He is _hardly_ a Prince! I am not the most sought out maid in Westeros to be wasting away as the new Lady of Storm’s End!”

The man before her sat himself at the wooden work desk to pour himself another glass of wine. Obviously, he couldn’t handle his daughter’s screeching while still sober. “If I said you are to be Queen, then you shall be Queen, Cersei.”

The newly acknowledged Cersei was obviously unsatisfied with his answer. “But Prince Rhaegar is already married to that Dornish whore, Elia. And has two children at that! And even if she drops dead and her brats succumb to illness, he wouldn’t marry me! The King had said so! And once again, Robert is no Prince!”

Tywin Lannister, because that was who the unnamed man was, massaged his aching temples. “Stop questioning my words, Cersei. I shall not marry my daughter to those that consider the Lannisters, servants! So Robert shall be King. Once he defeats the Targaryens for the insults they wrought him, that is.”

The impatient maiden now stomped her foot. “But even if what you speak of wasn’t treason, what of Robert’s betrothed?! The She-Wolf?! Lyanna Stark?! Isn’t it her honor that oaf of a Stag is so quick to defend?!”

In that instant the Lannister Lord threw his wine glass against the wall. “Stop questioning my decisions! You will marry Robert! And that is final! Because he isn’t getting no Lannister support he needs so desperately, unless we get a Royal Marriage. My grandchildren _will_ be Kings! And you shall not do a _thing_ to jeopardize it!!!”

Cersei looked shocked at her father’s sudden outburst. After all, his ire, when it surfaced, has never previously been directed at _her_. She was his golden child. His _Princess_. The one who shall marry a Prince. Not Jaime who joined the Kingsguard (at her urging, but what father doesn’t know, won’t hurt him). Not Tyrion, the disgusting Imp her father couldn’t bear to look at. “But father, even if he marries me, what is to stop him from dissolving our marriage once he has the Throne? Or even worse, making the Wolf Bitch his Mistress and legitimizing their brats as Princes?”

Obviously Cersei had asked a very important question. One that her father previously failed to consider. And that made him look at his daughter with a slight flicker of respect. “You are right, daughter. As long as she lives, the Wolven bitch is a threat to our House’s Prosperity. With her no longer being a maiden after the Dragon Prince has had her, her chastity will be secondary. Even with the Starks’ _supposed_ lack of ambitions, a ruined maid becoming a Royal Mistress would be tempting. So they can’t have that opportunity.”

“So she must die?” Cersei smiled. And her smile was all teeth.

“Yes… And I know just the Order to do it. We wouldn’t want any unfortunate surprises, after all. Do we?”

In that moment, no one would mistake the father/ daughter pair for not being so. After all, for all that Tywin Lannister’s hair had long-since gone silver, only close relatives of the Lion House could wear such gloating smirks of victory alike those of a Lion that has sensed blood.

For House Lannister will be Victorious.

After all, it was meant to be.

Maggie the Frog had said so…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

In a far away Tower in Dorne, a battle took place. One of unequal power, but one that set the future into what it was to be. On one hand, the Northerners and their new Lord had little chances against the Kingsguard. Especially a Kingsguard guarding something precious. After all, what could be more precious than their future King?

But the Northerners didn’t know that. And if they did, they would have hardly cared. Not even Lord Eddard Stark. After all, it was his stupid sister’s fault for her disobedience and wildness. She never should have run. She should have never ruined her betrothal. And now, instead of being a respected Lady of Storm’s End, she turned a Dragon’s Whore.

After 300 years of subjugation, the entirety of the North had one single dream. A united, and independent North. And an alliance with the Vale, Storm’s End and Riverlands would have given them just that. The Crown, especially defanged and without Dragons, was hardly an obstacle. The North just had to wait for their dreams to finally come true. But that wasn’t what happened. Not at all. His Father and Brother dying was definitely not part of the plan. And all because of a dumb girl that opened her ears to stupid songs and swapped the comfort of a Lord’s Keep for a useless Crown of Roses.

So none of the Northerners fought fair against a Kingsguard that didn’t want to decimate the relatives of their newborn Prince. And certainly not Howland Reed who was constantly blamed for not noting Lyanna’s strangeness when he had the chance. After all, who if not her ‘best friend’ would ought to know?!

The end result was unexpected but nonetheless explanatory, for the babe birthed by Lyanna Stark would never wear a Crown. Nor was he a true Stark. So even while comforting Lyanna, (after all, it wouldn’t hurt him to say false words of comfort to a dying woman), Eddard Stark hardly thought that a child borne of lust, sin and broken promises deserved any better than the station of a bastard. And the Wall as a definite perspective.

He had even thought of a name.

Jon Snow.

For naming the babe after his mentor and one of the masterminds behind the inevitable rebellion was an insult to all those stuck-up Targaryen bastards hopefully rolling in their graves. And he was hardly going to name the child Sand. For Sands have it way too easy in life and have thoughts way above a bastard’s station…

But while Eddard Stark thought that, the man he completely forgot about, silently came up behind him and hit him in the temple. Not enough to kill. No. But enough to give the would-be assassin time to do his deed. Because the man that had crept into the room with the grace of a Shadowcat was hardly the same Howland Reed that had cowardly stabbed Ser Arthur in the back just minutes ago. Because the one who came back from crudely speaking ‘taking a piss’ wasn’t Howland Reed. But merely someone wearing his face.

 _Literally_.

Because the figure that looked so familiar but was a dangerous stranger in truth, was a Faceless Man. A Faceless Man on a mission and an enticing paycheck. All he had to do was to ensure the death of an already dying woman. Usually, his assignments, especially those that payed so well, were hardly ever this easy…

So all he do was to carefully lift a neighboring pillow and hold it onto the once fought over maiden’s face. And in a few minutes that felt like eternity, the deed was done. Lyanna Stark was dead.

Cersei Lannister could rejoice.

But the hefty sum the Lannisters payed the House of Black and White was hardly the only compensation the Faceless Man felt entitled to. And had this been any other assignment, This Man would have walked straight out. After all, orphaned children were hardly This Man’s business.

But legitimate children of Royal Blood were another matter entirely…

And This Man, when taking just another boring assignment that helped pass the days of This Man’s unnaturally long life didn’t know that This Man would accidentally wander on a true treasure.

So when a nondescript man discreetly left the ironically named Tower of _Joy_ , it wasn’t empty-handed. Because in This Man’s arms, surrounded by a Targaryen marriage cloak was a whimpering newborn. And surprisingly, for This Man, the child was of even more value than the dragon egg safely contained in This Man’s travel pack.

And such was the start of a life of the one who under different circumstances would have worn the name Jon Snow with shame and sorrow. But such events wouldn’t come to pass.

And now some never will…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

If one listens, then in the dark halls unlit by fire, one would hear the faint echoes of bare feet stepping onto polished, stone floors. But no one would pay such sounds any mind. And if they did, one would believe them to be something ominous. _Dangerous_. After all, who would think that such a terrifying structure as the House of Black and White would ever hold children.

After all, it was well known that the recruits were taken in when they had absolutely nothing to lose. Ready to become no one and nothing. And no child would be mature enough to make such a decision.

But one child _did_ exist among the dark, empty halls and terrifying exhibits containing actual faces. Even if all the Faceless Men and the child themselves knew that the toddler will never grow to wear another’s face. After all, the then newborn was brought to the House of Black and White for an entirely different purpose.

And that purpose was the reason for the child’s fearlessness. Because the House of Black and White was the only home it had ever known. It had never seen the sun. Never ran through a field of wildflowers. Had not seen much of anything really, beside the dark, desolate halls and walls lined with faces. Faces that could come to life and speak at any moment.

But where any other child would have screamed and ran for their life upon coming across a mask made entirely of a human face that could speak, little Jaehaerys was no ‘any other child’. In fact, he often deliberately crept into the hall of faces and jumped up and down in front of them to gain their attention. After all, all of them must have been bored silly being stuck to a wall with no one but each other to talk to. _He_ would have been!

Although it wasn’t just because he was trying to entertain them that he sought them out. And not so much that he was lonely or bored either. Well he _was_ , but that was only part of the reason. After all, if the faces were in a good enough mood, they told him stories. Stories of faraway lands. Stories of Life, Death and Danger. Stories of Men and Death. Although there was one thing all the stories had in common. Death came for all in the end. For a Man cannot conquer Death. The Many Faced God might stall his hand. Temporarily. But in the end, all will die to come before him.

And even though Jae could predict every single ending of every story, it didn’t make him any less excited to hear another. Although had any other person heard of them, they would have been if not disturbed, then scandalized. After all, those in power thought themselves above everything. They preferred to forget the existence of Death. Priests of other religions would have found such stories and their morals blasphemy taught by heretics. And the boy’s own mother would have been horrified. For Death was something that was meant to happen far away. And to somebody else. Regardless of how hypocritical it was since it was her actions that led to the deaths of _thousands_. Including her own.

But Jae didn’t care for their opinions. After all, he had never met them. Their opinions were ash in the wind. Even his own mother’s. Especially his own mother’s. After all, it was her time to stand before the Many Faced God. Not his.

Jae was a strange boy. Or so others, whose feet had never graced the halls of the House of Black and White would have thought. Too quiet. Too knowing. There was no fight in the child. No second-guessing. He didn’t dream of faraway lands. He didn’t think to escape the dark halls that nurtured him. And where another would have rebelled, or at least tried to, tried to run and hide, tried to avoid the destiny laid out before them by the Faceless Men, Jae was perfectly fine being where he was. And had anyone who had known both his parents seen him, they would have concluded that the boy had much more of his quiet, prophecy-chasing father than his rebellious, wild mother.

And had the look been as superficial as are the looks from the people that call themselves friends of highborn Lords and Ladies, they would have completely missed seeing the Fire hidden under the surface. Only seeing the Ice.

The truth of the matter was, Jae wasn’t some voiceless victim or doormat. Neither was he a child that put too much emphasis on honor. He didn’t dream of a marriage to a relative either. But that could have been because he was much too young to be dreaming about anything adult related. So those that judge the cover by its looks would have been completely fooled, only seeing a bastard Stark in place of a Dragon-Wolf.

Just like the entire Realm would have been fooled in another life.

But the political consequences of having a Dragon-Wolf alive, well and kicking were so insignificant that they could be completely ignored. After all, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. And it’s not like those that do will scream it out loud for every oblivious idiot to hear.

It mattered little to Jae.

It mattered little to the Faceless Men. Those active and those that chose to rest. After all, for the two that maintained their bodies and took assignments in the name of their God, Jae was a creature these men must nurture until the Many Faced God deems him ready to serve his true purpose. But for those countless Assassins that chose rest, slumber and eventually _boredom_ in the Hall of Faces in place of active duty, he was more a beloved pet than an annoyance. After all, it was his childish love for their company and just his unconditional childish love freely given to those around him, that intrigued them with the Life they were tired of. Once more enticing them with active duty. Active duty that would take little to get back to. After all, a Face just needed a body.

And while a single body was enough to and most often _did_ house multiple Faces, perhaps it was time for them to once more get their own.


End file.
